Wednesday, January 21, 2009

Friends to the family visited my parents for dinner last Saturday and my mother was wearing her Laminaria. The woman-friend asked my mother about it and was told that I had made it. The woman-friend said that she felt proud as she was the one who taught me how to knit. And as she said it, my mother remembered the details.

Our family spent a week on an island in the archipelago with their family. We had rented a house there for all 10 of us. I was the only girl (except for the two mothers) and apparently I got sick and tired of the boys and their "stupid games" after a couple of days, and asked the mother of the other family if she could teach me how to knit. She was knitting a sweater at the time.

As my mother told me about it, I started remembering. I remember me or my brother loosing a suncap on the boatride there as the wind swept it off. I remembered us kids being outside a lot, running around. I remember walking across the island to meet the mailman and his boat. I remember us doing sommersaults on the lawn. I remember the grown ups complaining about a mouse in the house as they all heard strange noices at night (and then finding out it was me grinding my teeth). And I sort of remember sitting down knitting with white yarn.

I saw my mother yesterday. She came over to give me a picture of me knitting at the age of 6. In a chair outside the house we rented. With my Swedish blond hair. (I was that blond up until about 10 years old. Then it turned mousy...)

I have this image of Katie and Nan from "Katie and Nan Go to Sea" by Nan Inger. Did you read any of those books when you were a kid? There's a part in the book where they stop with friends on an island and stay a night or two and the kids' adventures while the parents chat and dine. Hilarious. Not sure they spent time knitting, though. :)